A glass of chardonnay
by Richefic
Summary: Tony knows he can hold out against Vance's questions, Eli David's interrogation, and even Saleem's truth serum. Leroy Jethro Gibbs is another matter entirely. Spoilers for the end of Season 6 and the start of Season 7.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I lay claim to nothing but the strawberry lip balm

"_We're on the next flight to Tel Adviv."_

Taking his leave of the Director Gibbs headed straight up to the bullpen. He didn't want DiNozzo hearing this latest development from anyone but him. As he exited the elevator he paused in the shadows to survey his senior field agent. Tony was working on something or other, probably the monthly requisition forms which were almost due. What he saw made him glad the next available flight to Tel Aviv wasn't until 0700 the following morning. DiNozzo might have insisted that his was 'okay' that morning at the Hospital, but a fractured radius was nothing to be sneezed at and Gibbs had had enough experience of Tony's idea of 'a few bruises' not to take that assessment at face value. Especially, since Ducky had also flagged up a whole assortment of other injuries.

It had already been one hell of a long day.

And anyone who knew DiNozzo's usual reaction to prescription drugs, didn't need to see the thin lines of pain around the younger man's mouth, to know that the unusually sober and serious NCIS Special Agent hadn't taken a damned thing yet to ease his very obvious pain. It was obvious in his tense, careful moments, the pallor of his expression and the thin drawn line of his mouth. Gibbs could hardly blame him. With everything at stake, Tony needed to keep his wits about him. Vance had made it pretty clear it he was prepared to throw DiNozzo to the wolves if that was what it took.

He knew DiNozzo could handle it.

That didn't mean he planned on letting him do it alone.

Reaching over, he closed the file Tony had been working on and powered down his computer. Tony looked at him wordlessly as his Boss handed him his bag. Gibbs expression told him all he needed to know. Not here. Not now. Neither man spoke as Gibbs turned off his computer and gather his own things, watching out the corner of his eye as DiNozzo carefully eased his bag onto his un-injured shoulder and following him towards the elevator. The two men travelled in silence down to the parking garage and made their way towards Gibbs bright yellow charger. When he noticed Tony trailed behind, his eyes cast over his shoulder, he stopped.

"What?"

"Its nothing," Tony tried, then caved under Gibbs' steady gaze. "Look, I know this isn't really important in the scheme of things, but what's going to happen to my car?"

"Leave it here," Gibbs shrugged. "You won't be driving for a while."

He watched as Tony's face fell and felt a pang of sympathy. The kid had seen his previous two vehicles blown to bits and crashed by a joy rider. His current ride had been a roundabout present from Gibbs who had 'persuaded' Jenny Shepherd to write a personal check cover what DiNozzo's insurance wouldn't and the former Marine knew that Tony cherished that car for the act of friendship it represented.

"I'll get McGee to pick it up," Gibbs relented as he unlocked the Charger. Remembering that DiNozzo's place didn't have secure parking he added. "It can sit in my driveway until you're back on the road."

"Oh," Tony's sigh was pure gratitude as he sank back into the passenger seat. "Thank you, Boss."

"You eat anything today?" Gibbs asked, as he pulled out into the traffic.

"Um, sure, I did," Tony said brightly. "Protein _and_ Carbohydrate."

"What'd I tell you about Hershey bars, DiNozzo?" Gibbs spared him a glance.

"That Hershey bars, don't count, Boss," Tony winced. They drove a few blocks without speaking before he broke the silence again. "How about Nutter Butters?"

Tony was a little surprised when they headed towards his apartment. Usually, when he was sick or injured Gibbs would take him back to his house, make sure he ate something, took his meds, and offer the kind of no-nonsense caring that made Tony feel genuinely valued, rather than smothered. Still, this was his mess, after eight years of being his senior field Agent he could hardly blame Gibbs for expecting him to stand on his own two feet.

It was what the Marine had trained him to do, after all.

So, DiNozzo bit back his slight feeling of disappointment, pasted on his best smile, thanked Gibbs for the ride, jumped out at the kerb, before things could get awkward, or even worse, embarrassing, scowled at the fact that the elevator was out of service _again_ and was staring at the bottom of the four flights of stairs that led to his apartment, when he felt a familiar head slap and an exasperated voice.

"Are you trying to get _me_ towed, DiNozzo?" Gibbs groused, even as he slipped an arm around Tony's waist and helped brace the raw ends of his broken bone as they made their way side by side carefully up the stairs. "I had to drive around back to use your parking spot."

Tony was sufficiently content in the knowledge that his Boss wasn't washing his hands of him, not to question as Gibbs helped him up the stairs and let them in to his apartment until he was standing in his bedroom, leaning against the wall and watching as Gibbs pulled his large leather holdall out of the back of his closet and set it on his bed. Moving with the ease of long practise around the room he tracked Gibbs movements as he picked out a couple of crisp white shirts, a few T-shirts, some clean cotton boxers, a couple of pairs of those silk socks Tony really loved, his shaving kit, toothbrush and, to DiNozzo's surprise his favourite cuff links.

"Boss?"

"This might take a few days," Gibbs allowed. "What else do you need?"

"That depends," Tony responded dryly, cradling his broken arm protectively against his chest. "On whether we are going to make like Mickey Rooney in Quicksand, off Vance, and make a run for the boarder – or if I'm packing for Leavenworth."

"Tel Aviv," Gibbs met his gaze, Tony deserved to here it from him straight. "0700 tomorrow."

"I'm guessing a dip in the Dead Sea isn't on the agenda." Tony raised a brow.

"Eli David is calling in a favour," Gibbs' tone was clipped. "Vance has decided to oblige."

"Serving up my head up on a platter?" Tony narrowed his eyes.

"Not if you do what I trained you to do," Gibbs answered simply. "So, what else do you need?"

"Since when did you care so much about my wardrobe?" Tony asked curiously. "Normally, when you pack for me I'm lucky if you bring me some sweat, a change of shorts and a toothbrush."

"Sweats and stubble is good enough for a few days riding a desk," Gibbs tone was crisp. "But if my senior field agent is going to- to-toe with the Director of an International Agency then I want him at the top of his game. Since your arm is pretty much useless you're going to need help with getting cleaned up and what ever the hell you've been doing with your hair recently, so tell me what else you need."

"De-odorant, on the bathroom shelf," Tony spoke without expression. "Shampoo – the one in the green bottle, hair gel, next to shampoo and ..," He hesitated.

"What?" Gibbs' tone demanded honesty.

"Skin moisturiser, the one with the SP factor – it's going to be hot in Israel. And," Tony coloured slightly. "The strawberry lip balm."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, but he nonetheless went off in search of the requested toiletries without comment and packed them into the soft leather holdall.

"You know, I don't actually need the lip balm." Tony backtracked.

"DiNozzo, I go into battle with desert desert camos and a sniper rifle," Gibbs shrugged as he zipped up the bag and headed towards the front door. "You wear Armani and lip balm. We both get results."

"Boss," Tony trailed after him, "You're not really gonna touch the hair are you?"

"Sit down before you fall down," Gibbs declared, as he carried the large Pizza over to his kitchen table and looked out glasses and filled them with water, bringing them to the table. "We'll eat first so you can take some meds. Then we'll see about getting you cleaned up."

"Boss. I really don't think that's such a good idea." Tony fretted, as he settled into a chair.

"DiNozzo, Gibbs was exasperated. "Enough about the hair."

"No, I meant the pain meds," Tony was deadly serious. "You know, how I get on those things."

"You can't tell me a fractured radius doesn't hurt like hell." Gibbs retorted calmly.

"The pain will keep me sharp." Tony dismissed that.

"True," Gibbs allowed. "But it will also distract you. Put you on a short fuse, and 12 hours being jolted around on a transport, sure isn't gonna help matters any."

"I can manage."

"Yeah, I know that," Gibbs allowed, as he fished a small bottle out of his pocket and checked the label, snapping the lid open and tipped two white tablets into his palm, exchanging the bottle for a glass of water and offering both to DiNozzo. "But you don't have to. Ducky says these will knock you on your ass tonight, but then if we keep the dose low enough they will just take the edge off things."

"No fingers, being fingy?" Tony sought reassurance.

"Not a one." Gibbs agreed.

"Alright, I trust you guys," Tony conceded, accepting the pills and the water and swallowing them down with a satisfied sigh. Then he grinned. "Ducky, never said ass."

"I was paraphrasing."

Gibbs pointed out as he moved back to the table and flipped open the box, thrusting a slice of pizza at DiNozzo to forestall any further comment that might be coming out as his mouth.

"P'araprasing?" Tony mumbled, as he contentedly chewed.

"Eat," Gibbs quelled him with a glare. They ate in silence for a while, both men content to focus on slating their hunger, Gibbs was full after just a couple of slices, but Tony ate more than half the pizza, before he sighed contentedly and pushed the box away.

"Thanks Boss, I really needed that."

Gibbs was pleased to see that the stiff set of his senior field agent's shoulders had visibly relaxed, as the food, painkillers and genial company had kicked in. Nodding an acknowledgement, he cleared up the box and turned to put coffee on.

"You still haven't asked me what happened." Tony spoke quietly.

He had tried at the Hospital to explain his actions to his Boss, in the face at Ziva's obvious distress and his own guilt at causing that pain, he had sought to justify himself to Gibbs, determined to give his side of things. Tony scrubbed at his face. He didn't know what had touched him more, the fact that even in the midst of a mess of international proportions Gibbs' first concern had been for him and his injuries or .. the other thing.

"_DiNozzo."_

Gibbs could make those two big and five little letters say just about anything. Over the years, his name had meant everything from 'get your head out of your ass," through "I trust you to handle this," right up to "I'm proud of you, Anthony," Not that Gibbs ever came right out and said any of those things. Or at least, not very often, but then, infuriatingly, he knew he didn't have to. Tony was the one who liked to hear the actual words Gibbs was content with just getting his message across.

So Tony had known exactly what Gibbs was asking, and what he was offering in return when he looked him in the eyes and softly spoken his name. Right here and now, it was just the two of them. _This_ conversation was just between partners. Gibbs was demanding his total honestly, but he was also pledging his total support. Trusting that even if Tony hadn't followed Agency procedures he had still done the right thing and when he had told his Boss it was justified Gibbs had simply taken him at his word.

Even so, he'd expected further questions. Gibbs was renowned for wanting to cover all the bases. But all his Boss had done all day was provide answers that forced Vance and Ziva to back off, offering his steady support in every action, word and glance. It had helped.

A lot.

"I told you before, DiNozzo, you don't need an alibi with me," Gibbs now responded easily.

"But my word against a dead guy's isn't going to cut any ice with Mossad." Tony pointed out what they both knew.

"Read your report too," Gibbs reminded him. "Ducky's forensic evidence backs up your version of the fight. Plus, the blood alcohol level will go a long way to explaining Rivkin's short fuse in deciding to attack you and why you were able to kill him."

"Why does no-one think I could take this guy?" Tony groused.

"Because, he was Kidon, DiNozzo," Gibbs pointed out. "A Mossad assassin, a trained killer and the _only_ reason, Tony - that it's him lying in Ducky's morgue right now and not you is because he was hammered."

"Oh." Tony made a face as that finally sunk in.

"Why didn't you come to me, Tony?" Gibbs locked gazes with him. "I get why you didn't inform the Director. You wanted to protect, Ziva. And I don't care that you went off grid. Hell, I was the one who told you to stay on Rivkin. But you went into what you knew was a potentially fatal situation without any backup. I trained you better than that. Why the hell didn't you wait for me?"

"I was just following my gut, I didn't know how this was going to pan out but I knew it could go belly up at any moment," Tony ran a hand through his hair as he tried to defend his actions. "I didn't want to take anyone else down with me, especially, not you."

"Never took you for a hypocrite, Tony." Gibbs raised a brow.

"What?" Tony blinked, for once not making the connection.

"How many times have you ripped me a new one for going vigilant in an attempt to protect my team from my actions?" Gibbs pressed. "And you were right, every damn time."

Tony screwed up his face. He couldn't deny that he had always been as mad as hell when Gibbs had gone off half cocked on one of his crusades under the guise of shielding his people. Especially, as in the end he had usually needed his team to bail him out anyway.

"Much as I love to here you say that I'm right, Boss," Tony shook his head. He had been prepared to risk his own career, but involving the others hadn't been an option. He sighed. "I guess, things look different when you are the one on the other side."

"Yeah," Gibbs sighed, his mouth quirking in a rueful grin as he acknowledged the plain truth of that. His next words were full of meaning. "They sure as hell do, DiNozzo."

The two men looked at each other in a moment of perfect accord, as they each understood exactly where the other was coming from. When Gibbs looked away, his eyes shining a little too brightly, Tony knew that the other man was feeling guilty that his own stubborn example had almost cost DiNozzo his life. _Again_.

"Rivin's dead, Boss, and I'm not," Tony offered what comfort he could, before his own mouth twisted. "For now. They don't still have the death penalty in Israel do they?"

"It won't come to that."

Gibbs didn't see any reason to expound on the crimes still eligible for the death penalty in Israel. Only one man had faced capital punishment in that country since 1962. Restrictions under Jewish religious law to prevent the death of the innocent mean that execution was de facto illegal. However, Eli David's ability to arrange an 'accident' in revenge for the death of his operative was perhaps another matter.

"Hope you're right," Tony swallowed hard; meeting his Boss' eyes with a degree of trepidation, willing to let Gibbs and Gibbs alone, see exactly how much the upcoming confrontation was un-nerving him. They both knew just how badly this could go. "Not that the alternatives are much better. I've already tried prison, and those jumpsuits really aren't my colour. And I love this job, Boss. I don't know what else I would do if Vance fired me."

"Hell, DiNozzo," Gibbs scoffed. "That's the easy part. I'll retire, we'll buy a couple of those god awful shirts you like and open that detective agency in Hawaii you're always talking about."

"Like Magnum?" Tony grinned, over a large yawn. "That's a pretty good plan, Boss."

"C'mon," Gibbs wrapped his hand around the younger man's good arm and hauled his senior field Agent to his feet, steadying him as he swayed slightly. "Time for you to hit the rack. Tomorrow is going to be a big day."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Gibbs stretched the kinks out of his back as he waited for the coffee to brew. He was getting too old to fall asleep under the boat. But with his broken radius there had been no question of DiNozzo crashing on the couch so Gibbs had easily overridden his senior field agent's slurred protests as he had half carried, half dragged the younger man to his bedroom. As soon as he had hit the mattress DiNozzo had been out like a light, so Gibbs had had to be content with slipping him out of his suit jacket, removing his shoes and fixing the sling a little more comfortably, before tossing a blanket over him and heading to the basement.

For once the repetitive scrape of sandpaper on wood had not been enough to soothe him. His mind kept racing, thinking of the various ways this might play out. Whatever way he looked at it, it was clear that Vance was fully prepared to sacrifice DiNozzo for the greater good. Gibbs was damned if he was going to let that happen. Tony deserved better. Tossing aside the sandpaper he uncapped the bourbon and splashed a little into a glass, welcoming the burn on his tongue and the warmth in his chest. After a moment, a small smile had played on his lips as he had realised _exactly_ how to play this.

Adding hazelnut creamer and three spoonfuls of sugar to one of the mugs he carried it upstairs, his lips quirking in genuine amusement as he paused in the doorway. He knew Tony would throw a fit if he could see himself right now. His beloved designer shirt was crumpled and had popped a couple of its expensive pearl buttons where the younger man had tossed restlessly in his sleep. His chin was marked with stubble, and his hair stuck out in little tuffs at every angle.

Then he looked closer and his smile rapidly faded as he took in his senior field Agent's unnaturally pale complexion, and the bare glimpse of his torso, where his shirt had rucked up, exposing the he dark, mottled, bruises on his torso. Gibbs wished for nothing more than to be able to let the kid sleep in and go take care of this whole damned mess himself. But he knew that he couldn't and more importantly he knew DiNozzo wouldn't thank him for it.

There was nothing for it but to get this show on the road. Leaning over, to touch Tony's good shoulder, he was surprised when DiNozzo flinched away from the contact, even as his eyes snapped open.

"Got some bruising there?" Gibbs asked levelly.

"Boss," Tony's eyes darted from side to side as he tried to decide just how much leeway he had right now. "I don't suppose you would believe it was a reaction based on some childhood trauma?"

"It's been a long time since you flinched from my touch." Gibbs pointed out.

"Ah, but I was fast asleep," Tony railed, as he carefully, went to sit up, not bothering to hide his very obvious wince. "Maybe, I didn't know it was you."

"Your subconscious did," Gibbs advised him, as he passed DiNozzo the coffee and crossed over to fully open the drapes and take a closer look at his agent. "Otherwise, you would have been awake and alert before I crossed the threshold."

"OK," Tony looked up at him with a scowl, even as he massaged his shoulder with his free hand. "It hurts like hell. Are you happy now?"

"Delirious," Gibbs reached out and hooked a hand under his arm, drawing him up. "C'mon."

In Gibbs imagination, Tony stood stoically as his Boss, helped him to fix his arm so he could shower, and submitted quietly to having his bruises tended to and his meticulous grooming routine observed. In reality, DiNozzo, whined, winced, kept up a running commentary, and generally made an all round nuisance of himself, until Gibbs slapped his good hand away, _hard,_ from one last tweak at his hair and fixed him with his best glare.

"Touch it again and I'll cut your fingers off. Breakfast. Now."

Breakfast was no better. Tony banged his spoon against the edge of the bowl, in some parody of music, he read aloud from the back of the box of Captain Crunch that Gibbs had found at the back of the cabinet, from the last time Tony had stayed over, he jiggled his left knee and quoted incessantly from movies where the side kick met some kind of grisly end. Gibbs figured it was unlikely that Mossad would feed him to the sharks like Felix Leiter in Live and Let Die but he figured he should address the real issue.

"You nervous, DiNozzo?"

"Me? Nervous?" Tony forced a laugh. "Not a bit of it."

Gibbs raised a brow.

"Scared witness, Boss," Tony willingly caved. "This could be the end of my life as we know it. Vance already hates me. Ziva isn't actually speaking to me, so I don't know if she hates me but I killed her boyfriend, so I'm guessing I'm off her Hanukah list. Abby cried and McGee was nice to me. Not sure which one of those I found more traumatic. And the Director of Mossad is personally waiting to hang me out to dry to save his own sorry ass."

"True enough," Gibbs agreed. "So what's your plan?"

"My plan?" Tony repeated.

"You do have a plan, right?" Gibbs enquired.

"A plan," Tony swallowed, and looked around, as if seeking an escape. "Of course, I have a plan. Why wouldn't I have a plan? And it's a real doozie."

"So?" Gibbs regarded him over the top of his coffee mug. "Let's hear it."

"Hear it?" Tony blinked. "You actually want to know it is, right now?" At Gibbs nod, he bit his lip, thinking rapidly. Gibbs hid his smile, as he saw the moment the younger man's eyes lit up. He could practically see the light bulb over his head as Tony stopped worrying and actually thought about the problem. "The plan is .. get Eli to admit that Rivkin was acting under his orders."

"That's a good plan," Gibbs approved, but not without a caveat. "You figure out how you're going to do that?"

Tony paused considering, pursing his lips together and pointing his finger, as various ideas occurred to him, only to shake his head and let his hand drop as he found its flaws. Gibbs simply waited him out. He had almost finished his coffee, when Tony suddenly straightened and a truly evil DiNozzo grin, spread with immense satisfaction across his features.

"You know," He cocked his head at Gibbs. "I can be _very_ annoying."

Gibbs didn't even try to hide his proud smile. Right now Tony needed all the positive affirmation he could get. Looking at the newly discovered purpose in DiNozzo's step, as they headed out, Gibbs felt better than he had all week. If they played this right, then rather than ending his career, Tony might just get the chance to show Vance what he was really made of. Gibbs almost felt sorry for Eli David. The man had no idea what was in store for him.

It was past late by the time they finally arrived home from Tel Aviv, between the time difference, the two twelve hour flights in so many days, Gibbs wasn't even sure what day it was anymore. All he wanted, was a square meal, a hot shower, and to roll into bed. But he had something or rather some_one_ else to take care of first. He knew he had a fight on his hands. The only way he had even been able to get DiNozzo to come home with him was to claim that he was too tired to make the detour to drop him at his apartment. And even then he had had to confiscate the younger man's cell phone and threaten dire retribution when Tony had tried to call himself a cab.

Leaving his own bag in the hallway, he put the bag of Chinese food on the kitchen table, hoping DiNozzo would succumb to his hunger and start picking through the boxes. He went straight to the coffee maker and turned it on, before pulling out a couple of beers. Ducky might not approve of mixing painkillers with alcohol but right now he would do anything to get his senior field agent to loosen up. He turned back to see DiNozzo still standing mutinously in the hallway his shoulders tense and defensive, fight or flight write large across his angry features. It wasn't that Gibbs didn't understand the sentiment. He just couldn't allow it.

"Food's getting cold." Gibbs went for matter of fact.

"I'm not hungry," Tony shook his head, as he turned his back, defiance radiating in every movement. "I'm gonna hit the rack."

"Anthony."

The soft spoken word was enough to stop the younger man in his tracks. Gibbs wasn't surprised that he didn't turn around. Nor that when he spoke his voice was laced with pain.

"What happened?"

Gibbs didn't pretend to mis-understand him. He had been proud of the way Tony had kept things together in Tel Aviv. It had reminded Gibbs of the way he was went he went undercover, focused; full of wit and dangerous charm. But Ziva's decision to stay behind had hit Tony hard. The younger man had kept his game face firmly in place all the way home and even once they had got back to NCIS to write up their reports. But as soon as they were alone in the car, Tony had turned his face to the window and watched the passing scenery in uncharacteristic silence.

Instead of answering his question, Gibbs made his way around him and offered two white tablets and glass of water.

"Take 'em."

Tony looked at the pills for a long moment, then shook his head softly and looked away, his jaw tense enough to crack a tooth. Gibbs felt a pang of sympathy as he recognised the emotions of guilt and regret the younger man was feeling. But he wasn't about to let DiNozzo punish himself for Ziva's choice by being needlessly in pain. Not on his watch.

"You gonna start disobeying my orders you better have a damned good reason."

"Boss." Tony, took a long, shuddering breath.

Gibbs held his gaze and for a moment he thought the kid was still going to defy him. But then Tony sighed and snatched the pills and glass from him, swallowing them down and slamming the glass back into his Boss' hand with a glare that made co-operation seem like an act of defiance. Gibbs simply ignored him, set about pulling out the cartons of Chinese and finding a fork. Taking his own place, he stuck the fork in a carton of noodles and pushed them towards DiNozzo.

"Eat. Or I'll kick your ass."

He knew he was being a bastard and part of him didn't much care if it got his senior field agent to take care of himself. When DiNozzo got like this gentleness just confused him. He needed firm and clear direction. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't offer a little solid support. As the younger man reluctantly took a seat6 and reached for one of the cartons he rewarded the choice with a few words of praise.

"That was a good job today with Eli."

Tony looked up, from where he was playing with his food, his eyes softening slightly in the face of Gibbs' obvious sincerity. He even went as far as actually putting a forkful of the noodles in his mouth.

"Thanks for running interference with Vance for me." Tony shifted a little awkwardly.

_En route to Tel-Aviv Gibbs had sat silently by as Vance had repeat__edly lectured his senior field agent about his responsibilities to the Agency and his expectations as Director as regards his conduct. He had made it quite clear that DiNozzo was to expect severe reprisals if he was anything other than 100% professional. Gibbs had pressed his lips together he had long since learnt that Tony was a far better agent, if he was allowed to have his head, most of the time._

"_And you leave that attitude of your on the plane, are we clear, Agent DiNozzo?"_

"_Crystal, Director." Tony had replied, his tone crisp and respectful._

_Gibbs had simply waited until Vance had gone up front to speak to the crew. Tony had tipped his head back and had his eyes closed. But Gibbs was familiar enough with his breathing patterns to know that he was faking sleep. As soon as Vance made himself scare he unclipped himself and plonked himself next to DiNozzo, watching as the younger man turned his head sideways and slid his eyes open, giving him a questioning look._

"_You do what I trained you do," Gibbs had reminded him. "Let me worry about, Vance."_

_Tony had swallowed hard at the unequivocal endorsement. Recognising in his Boss' words both his faith in his as an agent and his support for him as a partner and a friend. Most people recognised that DiNozzo was like a loyal St Bernard, in following Gibbs' lead. And it was well known that the former Marine looked out for his people. But most would be surprised by the true depth of mutual respect, trust and affection, that existed between the two men._

"_Thank you, Boss." Tony had nodded._

_Gibbs had given him an encouraging jerk of his chin, in response, before pressing one of the white pills Ducky had found for them into DiNozzo's hand, curling his fingers around it, and giving the clenched fist a quick squeeze and a little pat of reassurance, before he let go. He knew that the small act of caring and the lingering warmth of that touch would help sustain Tony through what was to come. And in the event, DiNozzo had excelled himself, Eli David didn't even realise he was being played – until it was too late._

"Just making it so you could do your job." Gibbs shrugged now.

"The whole time I was baiting Director David, I kept wondering if you had had to pull your Sig to keep Vance in the other room," Tony laughed, hollowly. "You could have knocked me down with a feather when the guy came up to me afterwards and congratulated me on a job well done."

"You were right," Gibbs shrugged. "He was wrong."

"Yeah," Tony twirled his fork around, but didn't lift the noodles to his mouth, before he met Gibbs eyes. "And so was Ziva."

"She trusted Rivkin," Gibbs allowed. "She wasn't ready to hear the truth."

"So, what now?" Tony gave up all pretence at eating, and laid his fork down, as he let a little of his raw anguish show. "Think she'll ever come back to us, Boss?"

"I don't know," Gibbs answered honestly. "She needs time to get her head on straight."

"Is that what she told you?"

Gibbs pressed his lips together. He did not want to see the look his words would put on DiNozzo's face if he told them the bald, unvarnished, truth. The younger man was already blaming himself for what had happened. He didn't need any more guilt.

"It's complicated." He evaded.

Deciding to stall a little he got up and moved to fill up his coffee, in an attempt to collect his own thoughts and put some distance between them. But even as he stood with his back to DiNozzo the words, never his strong suit, were no easier to find, but he had never lied to his partner and he wasn't about to start now.

"Boss?" DiNozzo's voice pressed. "What did Ziva say?"

"She said, she was still not convinced that you had been entirely truthful about Rivkin's shooting. She was only prepared to return if one of you transferred to another team." Gibbs admitted.

"Wait a minute, she wanted to come home and you left her there?" " Tony's tone was incredulous as he latched onto Ziva's needs rather than his own position.. "Whatever happened to never leaving a man behind?"

"Damn it, DiNozzo, are you even listening to me?" Gibbs' own voice rose, giving vent to his own feelings of frustration . "She gave me a choice. It was either her or you."

Behind him he heard Tony suck in a sharp breath as the reality of those words hit. But he could not turn around. Could not bear to see the mixture of guilt and blame and remorse he knew DiNozzo was feeling. He wasn't feeling much better himself. But Ziva had made her choice. All Tony had done had been try to protect her.

"Look," He heard the chair scrape across the floor as Tony stood up. "It's not too late to sort this out. I'll go talk to Vance in the morning. I should have moved on long before now anyway. Ziva can just put in for some leave while the paperwork clears."

"What?" Gibbs demanded. He turned around to see Tony on his feet, with a look of resignation of his face that made Gibbs want to stride over there and shake him so hard his teeth rattled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"It could even turn out to be a pretty good move," Tony gave a self-depreciating shrug. "Now that I'm the Director's poster boy for pissing off the leader's of other International Agencies, I might even get somewhere exotic."

Gibbs put down his coffee cup, pushed himself off the counter and crossed the kitchen, waiting until he was right in Tony's personal space before asking sotto voice.

"Is that what you want, Tony?"

DiNozzo dropped his eyes. He had never been able to lie to Gibbs worth a damn and, if he was honest with himself he had never really wanted to. They both knew that leaving was the last thing he would actually choose to do. And he could still feel his Boss' gaze boring into him, determined to have his answer.

"No, Boss, it's not what I want," He sighed, before he looked up. "But maybe, it's for the best."

Gibbs thought about all the things he _could_ say. He could point out that Ziva had made her own choices. He could remind the younger man of what he had said six years earlier when he had told DiNozzo he was irreplaceable. He could play devil's advocate and argue that even if Tony transferred, there was no guarantee that Ziva would leave her family and her homeland to return to the States. But he didn't think any of those things were what the younger man _needed t_o hear.

There was really only one option.

"No." He said simply.

"Boss?" Tony blinked, but in the depths of his green eyes, confusion warred with hope and Gibbs knew he had said the right thing.

"I only just got you back from being Agent Afloat, You think I'm going to let you go again that easily?" Gibbs pointed out as he crossed back to retrieve his coffee cup and put some distance between them in the emotionally charged atmosphere. What Tony needed was for this to seem normal, familiar. "Ziva made her choice, Tony. And I made mine."

Tony looked at him, his eyes dark and unreadable. His expression slightly haunted. But he straightened his shoulders as he felt the depth of Gibbs regard. The former Marine watched as Tony crossed the kitchen to stand beside him, poured himself a little more of the strong, dark coffee and took a decisive gulp. When he finally spoke his voice was clear and firm.

"I gave you my word, about Rivkin."

"I know," Gibbs agreed simply. "And your word has always been good enough for me."

Tony nodded, accepting that. They stood shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence for a few moments then Tony took another long swallow of the bitter coffee and almost gagged.

"God, Boss that stuff is truly horrible."

"It goes down better if you eat something." Gibbs pointed out, for once not bothering to hide his concern. He had made his choice after all, and DiNozzo needed to understand how easy that had been. His senior field agent had given him his word and that was always good enough for him.

Tony met his eyes and no other words were needed.

"Yes sir." He responded dutifully. Only to pause before the forkful of noodles actually hit his mouth. "Do you think she'll call if she needs us?"

"Maybe," Much as he wanted to lie Gibbs couldn't be anything but honest. "In the meantime, we still have a job to do. You ready for that?"

"Mostly," Tony admitted, even as his face twisted a little. "The rest I figure I can fake."


	3. Chapter 3

AN- this part picks up where Truth or Consequences left off

On the plane home from Somalia, Gibbs looked over his people. Ziva, might be battered and bruised, but she was here and alive and the drip in her arm and her heavily medicated sleep was the best thing any of them could wish for right now. Tim, was bearing his own battle scars, but exhaustion borne of a dip in adrenalin, plus the satisfaction of a job well done, had lulled him into a natural sleep. Of the three of them, only DiNozzo sat, still wide awake, staring straight ahead, his hands clenched with a white knuckle grip on the retraining straps, exactly as if Salem still held him bound in place.

Gibbs expression darkened. He had agreed to this plan, he had had complete faith in the ability of DiNozzo and McGee to see it through. That hadn't made any of it any easier. As a Marine sniper he had learnt to bide his time, hone his patience, waiting as long as it took to get the perfect shot. It was a skill he still used in interrogation. Knowing Saleem had taken his people and having to wonder hour by hour, minute by minute, what kind of hell he was putting them through had been bad enough. Now realising that DiNozzo was still suffering at the hands of that SOB and his truth serum was completely unacceptable.

"Medics check you out?" Gibbs asked, as he settled in beside his senior field agent, despite already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Tony looked at him, his eyes dark and glittering slightly as he waved his hand at the drip fixed in his arm. "I've been poked, prodded, appraised, evaluated, examined, I think they were working their way up to eviscerated ..."

"Anything I need to know about?"

Tony squinted, focusing hard on the opposite wall, for a long moment, before he exclaimed, almost in triumph. "No! Absolutely, no injuries at all that you need to know now about. No imminent danger of bleeding out, no bullet wounds, no broken bones, no allergies ..."

"McGee said Saleem gave you Sodium Penthonol. Is that right? " Gibbs pushed.

"Sodium Penthonol and several other agents, a perfect little cocktail of his own making, shaken not stirred," Tony spoke at high speed, as the information raced out of him, apparently in spite of himself. Then he scowled, as he regained a little more control. "Damn that McTattle-tale I thought I was supposed to be the loose lipped one."

"Yet you didn't think I needed to know you have been given truth serum?" Gibbs asked, dangerously quietly.

"You might _want _to know but strictly speaking you don't actually _need _.." Tony trailed off to peer closer at the look his words had placed on Gibbs face. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd say you were looking impressed rather than pissed."

"You do that kind of end run around Saleem?" Gibbs raised a brow.

"Tried to," Tony nodded. "Wasn't easy. My tongue just kept wanting to run away with me. So, I figured if I just kept on talking and talking and tried to keep the gaps for him to actually ask any actual questions I wouldn't be able to tell him as much of the stuff he actually wanted to hear."

"Uh huh," Gibbs reflected on that. It was a clever plan. As an interrogator Saleem had probably found it damned frustrating. And it wasn't in Tony's nature make his captors go easy on him. Not when his partner was the only other target. And a lot could happen in three days, a lot that didn't leave any physical marks. Gibbs knew that from personal experience.

"You expecting some turbulence?" He asked with a lightness of tone he did not presently feel.

"What?" DiNozzo blinked, as he followed Gibbs gaze down to take in his own white knuckle grip on the red harness which strapped him in place on the transport, his eyes widened slightly, before his ears tinged with colour as he registered what he was doing. "Oh, I guess I could let go, huh?"

"Ya think?" Gibbs tried for normalcy. It didn't help.

"You need a hand?" Gibbs, asked after a moment when DiNozzo didn't actually move. He didn't care what the shrinks might say, about letting the kid take things at his own pace, _he_ needed to see his agent let go of those damned straps.

"No, I'm good," Tony visibly braced himself, before he slowly uncurled first one hand and then the other. "The medics said I needed to hold on," He smiled mirthlessly at his own joke. "They wouldn't give me any medication or food or anything. They wanted me to hold on until whatever else was in the cocktail of drugs Salem gave me wore off. So, I guess I was just holding on."

Gibbs nodded, accepting that explanation for now. McGee's injures were painful but fairly straightforward. After months of captivity he knew Ziva was going to need serious help. But DiNozzo was more complex. Apart from lack of food and water his physical injuries seemed apparently minor. And that worried Gibbs. He already knew that Saleem had forced Tony to watch as McGee had been beaten. He wondered what other mind games the terrorist had played.

"You could just ask me," Tony offered, out of the blue. "Whatever, it is you are thinking so hard about. Veins full of truth serum here. All you have to do is pop the question and I'll tell you whatever it is you ever wanted to know."

Gibbs bit his cheek hard. The possibilities were endless. There were so many things about the younger man that he was itching to know. Right now he knew all he had to do was ask. But that seemed like such a breach of trust he could not bring himself to even try.

"Have you ever lied to me, Tony?"

"No, Boss," Tony assured him. "I have never, ever, lied to you. Well, expect that one time with the whole frog thing and that doesn't really count because I was under orders and you know all about it now. " Tony pressed his lips together, obviously struggling with the frankness of his answer, Gibbs has asked an actual question after all. "But I haven't always told you the whole truth."

Gibbs knew that. He also knew that his sense of own sense of loyalty and honour would not let him take advantage of the younger man just because he was so completely vulnerable. If there were things DiNozzo wanted to get off his chest, then it had to be on his own terms.

"Anything you _want_ to tell me?" He asked quietly, comfortable in the knowledge that the younger man had already proved adept at dodging that particular bullet.

"Yes, I'm starving," Tony looked around, as if hoping a trolley service might magically appear. "You don't happen to have any of those little packets of pretzels do you Boss?"

The younger man tried, not entirely successfully, not to flinch back as Gibbs moved. Patterns learnt over the last few days could not be so quickly unlearnt. Tony noticed Gibbs noticing but he knew his Boss would understand. Sure enough, the steady blue eyes offered nothing but silent support as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a power bar. As Tony's eyes greedily tracked it, Gibbs un-wrapped it and broke it in half, offering one of the pieces to Tony.

"Um, Gunny?" A medic passing back from checking on Ziva interrupted their exchange. "I wouldn't advise that, sir. Special Agent DiNozzo hasn't eaten since he was taken captive three days ago. As I already told him he needs to stick to jell-o or apple juice for the time being."

"The Gunny knows that all, Corporal, but unlike you, he doesn't care." Tony pointed out. "So mind your own bees wax."

Gibbs thought about telling the young medic that he knew the symptoms of dehydration and malnutrition up close and personal. But he also knew DiNozzo and his cast iron gut. Weighing the possible issues of further dehydration or sickness against the look of naked hunger on DiNozzo's face was no contest.

"You spew over my boots and I'll kick your ass. You keep that half down and you get the other half. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Boss." Tony agreed.

Two halves of a power bar later and a few hours of sitting still, breathing in Gibbs familiar scent and feeling the warmth where their knees and shoulders were pressed together in the crowded transport, DiNozzo's exhaustion lulled him into a natural sleep. Gibbs allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, as he settled in to watch over his team.

But he knew they weren't out of the woods. Not yet.

Gibbs usually liked being proved right. It was one of the things he loved about his job, putting together the pieces to prove his theory. But on this occasion he would have been more than pleased to be proved wrong. It was oddly fitting that the first person who stopped by his desk to put a nail in that coffin was Ducky.

"Jethro, I have invited Ziva to stay with me for a few days. I think it will take some time before she is comfortable enough to accept the medical assistance, she requires. Abigail has agreed to join us for what she terms a 'slumber party' and I hope between us we can ensure the dear girl gets the help and support she deserves."

"That's a good plan, Duck." Gibbs met the MEs hooded eyes and decided he might as well bite the bullet. "Something else bothering you?"

"When I tried to congratulate agent DiNozzo on his outstanding achievement, I thought he would be elated at his success and be eager to expound on his endeavours. Imagine my surprise when he brushed me aside as swiftly as his ingrained good manners would allow him to dismiss a man of my age."

"DiNozzo, doesn't grandstand over the important stuff, Duck."

"Indeed, Tony is an excellent agent, a skilled undercover operative and a man of enormous dedication and compassion. You chose well when you plucked him from that debacle in Baltimore."

"You going to tell me something I don't know, Duck?" Gibbs enquired.

"Oh, I very much doubt that, Jethro. However, not withstanding the fact that the demands of his position sometimes require him to take on a military role Tony is at heart a police detective. We would perhaps both well do to remember that the boy's not used to combat."

"It's not the combat that's bothering him, Duck." Gibbs had been cryptic.

He knew that over three days _something_ had happened to Tony in that hell-hole. He figured that between DiNozzo, Ziva and McGee's after action reports he should be able to piece things together. Then they could fix the problem. Predictably, the next person who stopped by was Abby.

"Gibbs, you need to talk to Tony."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Oh. He almost single-handedly masterminded a super secret operation to bring down an International terrorist and his entire network and he brought Ziva back alive. I mean, McGee and I helped some. And we couldn't have done it without your super sniper skills. Or the Director, I suppose. But mostly it was all Tony. He should be being all uber Agent, quoting James Bond and grinning like a Cheshire Cat. He should be _happy_. But he really isn't. He's all quiet and un-Tony like."

"Abby."

"I know, I know, what you are going to say Gibbs," She held up a hand. "I understand that he's been captured and the bad man didn't feed him, didn't even share his Caf-Pows and I know that he beat up on him, even though Tony won't talk to me about any of that. And that makes me really mad. But Tony has been captured by bad people before and he's always come out fighting and kicked their butts. I'm telling you Gibbs, this is different. This is so not good."

"I know."

"You do?" Abby blinked as she absorbed that. "Of course you do. I should have known that. You're Gibbs. You know everything. It's just I'm so worried about Tony. I'm going with Ziva and Ducky back to his place. And I know Tim has his family to go to. But Tony doesn't have anyone and he needs someone to take care of him."

"Know that too, Abs," He stood up and came around the desk to kiss her. "Go take care of Ziva."

As he settled back to his paperwork, Gibbs resolved there was no way his senior agent was going home by himself tonight. Over the last year the younger man had shied away from his established coping methods of alcohol and women. Gibbs wasn't sure that was entirely a good thing. It wasn't like the younger man had enough room in his apartment to build a boat. Still, whatever, was going on with DiNozzo Gibbs was determined he wasn't going to go through it alone.

"Boss," A familiar voice cut into his thoughts. "I finished my report."

"Are you doing OK, McGee?" Gibbs asked the younger agent as he handed over a file.

"Yeah, Boss, I think I am," McGee reflected. "I mean, I'm still kinda sore, and I have my mandatory appointment with the shrink to look forward to, but I'm doing alright. I'm really glad that we got Ziva out of there alive and I'm pretty proud of what we did."

"You should be," Gibbs acknowledged, he eyed the younger man closely and decided he was happy to take him at his word. "So, how are you going to spend your weekend pass?"

"I'm heading home," McGee smiled. "I haven't seen my folks in a while, nothing like being held prisoner by a Caff-Pow loving terrorist in the middle of the Sahara to make you want to re-connect with family."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Gibbs dismissed him fondly. "Get out of here."

McGee didn't need telling twice. He powered down his computer, turned off his desk lamp and picked up the backpack he had stowed in his locker, only to pause as he took a look around at the other empty desks.

"Um, should I say good bye to Ziva?"

"Ducky's still checking her out," Gibbs spoke without looking up. "Abby's with her."

"Good, that's good." McGee's eyes drifted to the senior field agent's desk, which was also, for the moment, conspicuously empty. "Um, Boss. I should probably tell you. It's about Tony."

That brought Gibbs head up, his eyes burning brightly. The look on McGee's face made his gut twist. He was almost afraid to hear this but he couldn't help DiNozzo by being a damned coward.

"What about him, McGee?"

"When we first got to the camp, we were separated. I didn't see Tony for over two days. They didn't do anything more to me than knock me around some and withhold food and water. But whatever they did to Tony. I think it was pretty bad, Boss."

Gibbs nodded his understanding of that as the junior agent took his leave. Heading up to his de-briefing with Vance his senior field agent's after action report he wasn't surprised to find that it was a masterly piece of writing, thorough and factual. But he knew it was far from the whole picture. Right now, all Gibbs really cared about was getting out of the Director's office so he could find out what was really going on.

So, at first, he was merely irritated and a little annoyed, when having finished his de-briefing he surged to his feet, and was half way to the door without waiting to be dismissed, only to have Vance's words stop him in his tracks.

"There's more."

It was the tone, rather than the words themselves that made him turn on his heel, steeling himself to meet the Director's gaze. When he saw only sympathy, his gut twisted.

"The Seal Team you left behind to take care of the clean up searched the rest of the facility," Vance advised him. "Turns out Saleem taped his interrogation sessions. A lot of the information was deleted or destroyed as the base was over run. But they were able to recover some information."

"Ziva?" Gibbs asked. Three months was a long time.

"Not so far." Vance shook his head.

"McGee?" Gibbs thought that wouldn't be so bad.

"DiNozzo."

With an effort, Gibbs kept his face expressionless. Judging by the look on Vance's face he was damned sure he didn't want to see this. However, part of him knew he needed to see this through, both to honour DiNozzo's courage and to make sure the younger man got the support he needed. The other part of him knew that his senior field agent would see his viewing of this video feed as a serious breach of trust.

"I'll give you some privacy." Vance's eyes were dark with sympathy.

"You've watched it already." Gibbs realised.

"Yes," Vance acknowledged. "You should be damned proud of your people, Gibbs. And for the record, I was wrong about DiNozzo."

"You gonna tell him that?"

"I already have," Vance looked closely at him. "But he hasn't told you that has he? Because then he would have to tell you why."

"I want him here," Gibbs decided. "I'm not going to watch this unless I know DiNozzo is okay with it."

"Already taken care of," Vance picked a piece of paper up off his desk and passed it over so Gibbs could see DiNozzo's flowing signature. "He said he promises not to leave the building until he has spoken with you. Apparently, in his experience that goes easier than making you look for him."

Gibbs didn't smile.

"He understands that you need to see this, Gibbs," Vance advised him. "And, believe me it will go easier on him having you watch it then his having to tell you about it."

Gibbs didn't respond as Vance left. Once he was alone he picked up the remote and pointed it at the screen. He set his jaws and his features as the first few images began to flicker across the screen. One thing he was sure of, if DiNozzo had signed off on him seeing these digital tapes, then they didn't cover the half of it.

And what they did cover was more than bad enough.

"Aw hell, DiNozzo." Gibbs sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

When he was finally done with the tapes, Gibbs needed a few minutes to compose himself before he could consider stepping out of the room. And if he had found them that difficult to watch, how hard must it have been for DiNozzo to live through? Coming to a decision, he rose to his feet and plucked a couple of glasses and the corkscrew out of the Director's wet bar. Failing to find the other item he needed, he cursed softly and detoured to drop the glasses and corkscrew on his desk, before ducking out of the building to run his errand. It took a bit of time and cost considerably more money than he was used to, but he figured the gesture would be well worth the trouble in the end.

DiNozzo had promised he wouldn't leave the building, so when he wasn't in the bullpen, the gym or even Abby's lab, Gibbs figured autopsy was a pretty safe bet. As he entered, the room itself was in darkness, but a small pool of light from the lamp on Ducky's desk showed DiNozzo tipped back in the metal chair, with his eyes closed and his expression shuttered. Putting both glasses down on the table with a soft click, Gibbs proceeded to open the bottle, watching as the younger man cracked a single eye open at the unexpected sounds and a raised a brow, not attempting to disguise his surprise.

"Wine, Boss?" Tony questioned. Gibbs was more of a beer or bourbon kind of guy. He didn't think he had ever been served wine in his home. "Is this a date? Are we on a date?"

"Chardonnay," Was Gibbs only response, as he filled one of the glasses before meeting Tony's eyes, watching as the significance of the gesture sunk in. "I watched the tapes."

_Listen, can I get a glass of chardonnay or something?_

"Right," Tony wasn't at all sure how he felt about that. He knew that he had done a good job, deflecting Saleem. He had done whatever it took to keep himself, McGee and then Ziva alive. But the experience had stripped him right back to the bare mettle of his wits. It was a side of him he usually worked very hard to keep hidden. "Um, maybe a drink isn't the best idea right now. Who knows how much of that truth stuff Saleem gave me is still sloshing around in my veins."

Gibbs gave him an unreadable look, but his only response was to fill the other glass and nudge it closer to his senior field Agent. Tony was smart enough to know that they weren't getting out of here until they had talked about what his Boss had seen on those tapes. Resigning himself to the inevitable, Tony decided he might as well take advantage of Gibbs' hospitality. Picking up the glass, he swirled the pale liquid around and leant in to take an exaggerated sniff of the bouquet, partly as a further stalling tactic and partly because he knew the pretentious behaviour would draw an eye roll from the no-nonsense former marine, only to stop short in genuine shock as he breathed in the unexpectedly mellow bouquet.

"Wow that's ..," Casting a swift look at Gibbs, Tony took a cautious sip letting the layers of flavour confirm what his nose had already told him. "That's the good stuff."

Curious now, he turned the bottle around, reading the renowned label and impressive vintage with a low, long, whistle, a wine that good, didn't come cheap. Coming from a practical man like Gibbs, it was an extravagant gesture that went way beyond a simple 'good job'. The former marine might not be good with words but as a symbol of support, affection even, it was almost poetic. Taking another sip to really savour the nuances of the high end vintage he met Gibbs gaze with a soft smile.

"I always knew there was more than one reason that you married four times. You're a romantic at heart."

"Told you before, DiNozzo," Gibbs drew up another chair and sat so that the two men both had their backs to the wall, with the desk between them. "You're not my type."

"That's cute, Boss," Tony let his thoughts roam free. "And that's a good move, sitting over there, so I don't feel like this is an interrogation. I can even avoid eye contact with you if I want too. Although, the walls in here are really dull. Ducky needs to brighten the place up a little, a few pictures, maybe a nicer lamp or something ..."

"Don't suppose he get many complaints about the decor from his usual clientele." Gibbs observed dryly.

"Guess, not," Tony focused on his wine glass, turning the stem in his hand a few times before he spoke again "Sooooo, Ziva's not dead after all."

"No, she isn't." Gibbs allowed.

"But she's not our Ziva either," Tony spoke quietly. "She'd given up, Boss. She wasn't even trying to escape anymore. She'd accepted that she was going to die there."

"You have to twist her arm to get her to come with you?"

Tony blinked slightly as he reflected on that. Ziva had seemed disillusioned and defeated, and frankly not particularly happy to see _him_ there, she had asked how McGee was doing after all. But then as soon as they had given her a window, it had been almost just like old times. Maybe, Ziva hadn't felt able to fight back anymore but she had allowed them to carry her.

In Ziva-speak that _was_ a big deal.

"Anyone can be broken, Tony, given enough time" Gibbs spoke with the quiet certainty that said he had been there. "That's nothing to be ashamed of. Its how you put yourself back together afterwards that counts."

"I knew you'd come for us," Tony tried to avoid the elephant in the room. "All the time Saleem held us I knew all I had to do was keep us all alive long enough not to get dead and you would do the rest. That was one hell of a shot, Boss."

"Rule 32." Gibbs shrugged. "I was just following your lead."

"You were?" Tony blinked as he considered that. "That's pretty big, Boss. In fact, that's huge."

Tony knew that there were very few people to whom Gibbs would surrender total control of an operation, especially, over something as close to his own heart as rescuing one of his own. When Kate had been murdered, Gibbs had been single-minded in his desire for revenge. This time he had stood aside. Belatedly, Tony realised that not only had Gibbs had his six in his campaign to bring Saleem down. But he had actually waited on him, doing nothing and he gave him the time and space he needed until he was ready to step up.

"You've always been a good Boss, Boss." He stalled now.

"Not too bad yourself, DiNozzo."

From the moment Tony had surged to his feet in the bullpen and issued an unequivocal "no" this had been his show. Gibbs had supported him, guided him, and run interference between him and Vance when some muscle about DiNozzo's pay grade was required. But Gibbs had known this was something Tony needed to be the one to do, before it ate him up inside.

And seeing his people, dehydrated and exhausted, as they limped from captivity, he knew he had made the right decision. Reaching down he offered DiNozzo his spare canteen. If they needed to move fast, then he wanted them in the best possible shape. He had watched with no small degree of pride, as DiNozzo had held the canteen first to Ziva's lips and supported her head as she drank, and then passed it to McGee, before taking a drink himself. In Gibbs' book that said everything that needed to be said about Tony's leadership right there.

"The tapes Vance showed me only covered the first day you were taken," Gibbs spoke quietly, taking a sip of his wine and carefully not looking at DiNozzo as he asked. "It was another two days before we located you. What happened the rest of the time?"

"That's a question, Boss, that's a real question," Tony squinted as he avoided looking at Gibbs. "My first nanny, she always said honestly was the best policy. She would have been no good under-cover. Not supposed to tell, right?

"You can tell me." Gibbs prompted quietly.

Tony blinked. The words were an invitation, rather than an order. The soft spoken support cut through his defences, like no demand had ever been able to. And he knew that Gibbs_ meant_ it. Knew that the soldier in his Boss, understood what it was to be raw and exposed, struggling to hold on to a sense of self, during a process designed to strip away dignity and humanity and leave nothing but a shell behind.

"Spent most of the last few days not telling, of course, that was before I got to try my own little chemical cocktail," Tony reflected. "Really gotta try and get a handle on that. Williams in Human Resources asked me what I thought of his new car and I told him it was a great car – if you were a teenage girl. He was pretty ticked off I guess he couldn't handle the truth."

Gibbs gave him a look that said very clearly that whatever it was, he was damned sure he could handle it.

"Gibbs, I swear, nothing happened."

That answer came back too quickly to be anything but totally honest and it was exactly what Gibbs had been dreading.

"_Nothing_ happened? You mean, he just left you in there for almost three days?"

"I didn't_ say_ that," Tony protested, before his eyes narrowed as he replayed the conversation in his head. "But I can see how you could draw that totally accurate conclusion from what I did say. I feel like I'm channelling Jim Carey as Fletcher Reede here. Have you seen that movie, Boss?"

"How did you end up in the hole, DiNozzo?" Gibbs refused to be defleted.

"Saleem got pretty mad pretty quick when I wouldn't give him the answers he needed. When he went to untie me I actually thought he was going to take me out and shoot me. Imagine my surprise when we took a little detour. The place was hewn out of the ground its sides were as smooth as glass. It was like a well or something, except there was no water and it was hot and dark and the trap door was at least three body lengths above my head. I might have thought I was never getting out of there if I hadn't known you were coming," He gave a hollow laugh. "Then, I heard sounds like them moving crates or sacks or something across to hide the trap door."

"I would have found you."

Gibbs swiftly addressed the un-voiced fear. It was almost ironic. Saleem had no way of knowing that he was exposing the younger man to one of his greatest fears. Thanks to his father's benign neglect there was nothing Tony hated more than being forgotten, or overlooked. Being dumped in that hole would have scared him more than any torture.

"I know you would," Tony's eyes met his, letting him see the truth of that. "You've always come for me. But Saleem's camp was a big place. It got really hot in there. I passed out a few times and it was pretty difficult to keep track of the time. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to hold on long enough for you to do your thing."

His voice faltered slightly at the memory and Gibbs looked on in sympathy, recalling the moment he'd witnesses in the infra red feed when his young agent had realised he was sharing his tiny prison with a collection of human bones. In a clinically calculating move Saleem had fixed up a live feed so he could watch his prisoners suffer and know the exact moment their spirit was broken. Gibbs almost wished the bastard wasn't dead so he could kill him all over again.

"And there were rats." He nudged.

"Yeah," Tony paused. "Rats, _lots and lots_ of rats."

That had been the hardest thing of all to watch. Knowing that Tony was as good as blind in the darkness, seeing him strain to hear the scratching of the rats, holding himself still and tense, then as the animals realised his helplessness, his increasingly desperate struggles to fend them off and avoid being bitten, despite the fact that there was absolutely nowhere for him to go.

"Did you know that in 2001 large rodents believed to be suffering from rabies terrorised central Somalia?" Tony asked, as if it was no big deal. "Most people were attacked when they fell asleep at night. Brad wrote something about it in one of the papers he had published on me. And in July 2009 at least 4 people were killed and almost 70 others landed up in Intensive Care because of a disease which was thought to be spread by rat urine in the water supply. I looked that one up before we went. "

Gibbs blinked. He hadn't known that. And even though DiNozzo had, he hadn't said a single word about it as they had made their preparations, despite his almost phobic dislike of rats. He supposed it explained why his agent hadn't even _tried _to sleep.

"You're a brave man, DiNozzo." He spoke with quiet certainly.

"What?" Tony looked at him, his eyes wide with disbelief and when his words came his tone was bitter. "You sure you watched those tapes Boss? Maybe, you're eyesight is finally shot. Because the way I remember it by the time they finally pulled me out of that hell hole my throat was raw with screaming and my eyes were red and itching from bawling like a little girl."

"And then you pulled yourself together and got the job done." Gibbs pointed out. "Courage is never about not being afraid."

"You going to start quoting George S Patton to me, Boss? Courage is fear holding on a minute longer?" Tony mocked himself quietly.

"Tony," Gibbs sighed. He knew there were no words that would make his agent feel better about the way he had wigged out. In DiNozzo's eyes he had let _himself _down and not even his Boss was going to be able to _make _him feel better about that. But he would offer what comfort he could. Reaching across the table he laid his hand on the younger man's neck, squeezing gently and feeling Tony relax slightly under his grip as he let the familiar touch ground him. "Don't need to tell you things you already know. You just need to let yourself believe 'em. What would you say if Saleem had targeted McGee?"

Tony glanced sideways at him, as he considered his Boss' words. Pressing his lips together he tried to give the question the objective consideration that it demanded.

"We survived. We got the job done. Saleem didn't break me. He gave it his best shot. Gave me a hell of a time, but I came out fighting and kept the team safe and got the bad guy in the process." A thin smile crossed his haggard features. "I suppose that's not such a bad few days work."

"Ya think?" Gibbs reached out and tousled his hair gently, before rising to his feet and offering a hand to help his agent up. He knew they still had a long road to travel and it would be hard on both of them before things were anything like back to normal but bringing DiNozzo to that realisation was a good enough start for now. "C'mon, you're bunking at my place tonight."

"I don't know, Boss," Tony looked awkward. "I'm probably not going to be the best of company."

"All the more reason for you to stay at my place," Gibbs pointed out. "My walls are thicker and my neighbours are further away. Besides, can you _honestly_ say you want to be alone tonight?"

"Ha, funny, Boss," Tony scowled at him. "You know, it's not nice to pick on the afflicted. But seriously, it might just be best all round if I went back to my own .."

"Wasn't a request, DiNozzo."

"Of course it wasn't," Tony acknowledged. "Do I at least get to pick the movie? Because, I think I'm starting a Black List, Bad Day at Black Rock. Total Recall, come to that. The Rats, obviously, even though Madchen Amick was really quite hot in that."

"I'm picking," Gibbs cut him off. "It's my turn. You can chose the take out."

They both paused as Gibbs cell rang, looking at the caller ID the senior agent frowned slightly.

"I need to take this, you go get your gear together, I'll meet you by my car in fifteen."

"On it, Boss."

Already thumbing the button to accept the call, Gibbs lifted the cell to his ear, hoping that all was well with Ziva and it wasn't going to be any more bad news. He didn't think he could handle much more tonight.

"Yeah, Duck?"

"Ah Jethro," The ME's cultured tones came clearly through the speakers. "I just thought you would like to know that Abigail and I have dear Ziva settled for the present. She is quite exhausted and physically in rather poor shape, although things there are not nearly as bad as they might have been if you get my drift. I get the impression that Saleem was more one for psychological torture than actual physical abuse."

"Yeah, I already worked that one out for myself." Gibbs sighed.

"Oh dear," Mallard realised. "And how is Tony doing?"

Briefly, Gibbs outlined the key events of the evening, knowing that Mallard's care would be as important as his own support in getting DiNozzo back on track. When he finished there was a brief, slightly perplexed silence.

"You know, Jethro," He could almost hear Mallard frowning. "The effects of sodium pentothal are usually quite short lasting, even allowing for the cocktail of other drugs employed by Saleem, plus the dehydration, lack of sleep and malnutrition, Tony should have fully recovered from its effects quite some hours ago."

"Is that so, Duck?" Gibbs didn't react.

"Except, you clearly knew this already," Mallard realised. "So, why did you allow Tony to continue with his little subterfuge that he was still acting under its influence? It's not like you to let the wool be pulled over your eyes."

"You're a smart man, Duck," Gibbs allowed. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."


End file.
